Monday

Quick Reminder... Be sure to thank a veteran today. Well, really, you should thank a veteran every day. The reason we are all here, all typing away, going to work, driving cars, speaking (mostly) English, and have the freedom to say just about whatever we want about anyone is because of someone braver than you or I decided to stand up and protect all the things we hold dear. These United States of America are truly exceptional. I, for one, am so proud to be an American!

That being said, I dropped the ball on NaBloPoMo. I really wanted to be able to say, after almost a year of not writing more than a status update on Facebook and Twitter, I posted every single day for a month. Now that I missed a day, it's a slippery slope and I can see myself falling back into my old, non-writing ways.

All's well, though. This past weekend was one that was 100% free of commitments. I mean, we had NONE. No where to be on either day. No family to attend to. Just the three of us. It was wonderful. Until... It was wonderful until I decided to get a pedicure. At a place that serves free wine. With a good girlfriend of mine. Of COURSE that did not go well. Because of COURSE it wouldn't.

Here's the timeline:

Friend comes over after dropping off her daughter at a birthday party. It's 4:30PM. The University of Texas kicks off at 6PM. Nail place is near my home. Get to the parking lot of where the salon is supposed to be. It is gone. Call. Drive 5 more minutes to the correct location. Arrive at 4:50PM. Immediately get seated in a chair, feet soaking, and handed a lovely glass of wine. Soak. Soak. OMG! My feet are shriveled! Look at the clock and it is 5:15. I start to worry. They refill my wine. Finally the pedicure begins. They are slow.

I then get a text from my husband, "XXX and XXX are coming over for the game." Then I get a text from another good friend, "We are on our way to come over and watch the game." Then I text the hubs to let him know about that and he texts back, "It's a party. XXX and the kids are coming, too."

PANIC ensues. On my part. I can literally feel the anxiety sweep over me. I snap at the sweet little pedicurist. I tell my friend that we GOTS TO GO! She tells me to chill. She is getting a manicure, too. OMG. I was dying. Finally. FINALLY. The pedicure is over. My toes are gorgeous. It is 6PM. Texas has kicked off. I decide to go to the Mexican Market next door to get ingredients to feed our growing guest list while my friend gets her mani. And another glass of wine. I do my shopping and get back as they are finishing up. On the ride back to my house (it's 6:30 and my house is FULL of PEOPLE), I determine that probably, I should drive to pick up her daughter from the birthday party.

So it's in, say a rushed hello to everyone, apologize profusely for being a terrible hostess, and rush back out the door. We have 14 minutes to get to the next town over and pick up the daughter. We go to the wrong place. Because of course we do! 7:30, 30 minutes after the party ended, we get to the right place, and pick up little miss. We then have to run by my friend's house and finally get back to my home at around 8.

If you're counting, my pedicure took 3 and a half hours. Made stressful only by the fact that for the first time in months and months we actually had a large amount of company. Oh well. For what it's worth, it was really nice to have a little "girl" time. My toes are gorgeous. And I know I'm an anxiety-riddled fool. Once I came down from all that adrenaline and drank a little more wine, it was all good. Except, well, at 11PM, with my house still full of people, I go into my bedroom to charge my phone. And that's all I remember until I woke up, on top of the covers of my bed, fully dressed.

I'm sure glad my friends like me. Because I suck at parties.